CHAPTER XIX.
THE SUBMARINE SCORES.
THE seaman was right. It was a British submarine, one of the E class.Terence could hardly believe his eyes to see the craft emerge frombeneath the waves almost within sight of the German coast andcertainly within the limits of the hostile mine-field. He had yet alot to learn concerning the bravery and resource of the commandersand crews of these marvellous craft, operating, without support fromthe destroyer flotillas, at the very gates of Germany's navalstrongholds.
The watertight hatch in the conning-tower opened and the head andshoulders of a young officer appeared. He bent to give an order, thenleapt out and gained the navigating platform, where he was joined bythree of the crew, clad in "fearnought" suits and seaboots.
"Come alongside as sharp as you can!" he shouted.
"Can't sir," replied Stairs. "We've no oars, and we're pretty welldone up."
The officer gave the order for "easy astern"; then judging that therewas sufficient room for the intended manoeuvre he ordered "easyahead," at the same time steering the submarine to pass about tenfeet to windward of the remains of the boat.
Meanwhile, those of the crew on deck had detached two boathooks fromthe handrail to which they had been secured by "beckets," andstanding by, awaited for their craft to pass within reach of theobject of their attentions.
Simultaneously the two boathooks engaged, and the boat was drawnalongside. While thus firmly held, one of the crew leapt into her,and raising Terence, passed him on to the willing arms of hiscompanions. Without loss of time Stairs was likewise rescued, andboth men, practically "done up," were taken below. Then, the officerand his men having returned to the shelter of the hermetically-sealedsteel hull, the submarine prepared to dive.
While kindly helpers were assisting to strip the clothing from thealmost unconscious sub., massaging his body and limbs with moreenergy than skill, and were pouring hot drinks down his throat,Terence could hear as in a dream the order given by the captain ofthe submarine.
"Diving stations. Flood main ballast.... Flood auxiliary ballasttanks!"
Dimly Aubyn began to realize that he was actually in a steel prison,several feet beneath the surface of a sea sown with deadly mines.
"Easy ahead. Elevate horizontal rudders!"
The submarine, now weighing nearly the same as the amount of watershe displaced, was ready for diving. That part of the operation wasperformed by means of the horizontal planes or rudders, trimming themto give the required angle of descent.
"Down to seventy feet, sir!" reported a voice, sounding hollow in theribbed, vaulted space.
"Stand by--let go!"
With a subdued rattle the anchor, hitherto bedded underneath thefore-part of the hull, dropped to the bed of the North Sea,additional water ballast being admitted into the tanks of the vesselto compensate the loss of weight of the ground-tackle. Save for afaint pendulum-like motion as the submarine swayed to the tension onthe bight of her cable, the craft lay calmly in twelve fathoms, forthe time being safe from the perils of naval warfare.
Warm both externally and internally, Terence dropped to sleep in acomfortable bunk in the officers' part of the vessel. Three hourslater he awoke, feeling much his former self, for the beneficialeffects of the oxygen-charged atmosphere were as invigorating as theair on the summit of a lofty mountain.
The instant he awoke the circumstances which led to his being onboard the submarine flashed across Aubyn's mind with vivid clearness.He contrasted his experiences with his regaining consciousness inShotley Sick Quarters. There his brain worked slowly--it tookconsiderable time for him to recall the events subsequent to thetorpedoing of the ill-fated "Terrier." Here, owing possibly to thechemically charged atmosphere, his mind was as fresh as if he hadawakened from a normal sleep.
The submarine was still at anchor. Beyond the purring of the dynamosfor supplying the electric light there was no noise of machinery. Menwere laughing and talking freely: he could hear Stairs' voice,holding forth with a vivacity that betokened no ill-effects from hisvoluntary immersion.
Terence sprang out of his bunk and began to dress. His own clothing,dried in the motor-room, was ready for him to put on. Just as he hadcompleted his toilet a man of about thirty, dressed in the uniform ofa lieutenant-commander, entered and introduced himself as PaulMaynebrace, captain of Submarine "E Something."
"Sorry we can't land you for a day or two," he remarked, afterinquiring after Aubyn's state of health. "We're on observation duty,and are not due back at Harwich until noon on Thursday. However,we'll do our level best to make you comfortable. Of course, I supposeI am right in assuming that you haven't been on a submarine before?It will be something of a novelty to you, but we are getting used toit. Rather boring, in fact."
"Boring?" repeated Terence.
"Well, rather. We are stationed to observe the approach through themine-field to Wilhelmshaven. It means that every few hours we have topop to the surface and have a look round; and except for thedeparture of some of the raiding German cruisers late on Saturdaynight (which we duly reported to the Admiralty, by the by) it'susually a case of a lot of work for nothing--for the beggars won'tcome out."
"Supposing a German warship did make a dash while you are downbelow?" asked Terence.
"We could tell by the noise of the propellors," replied thelieutenant-commander. "She is bound to keep almost immediately aboveus, owing to the narrowness of the passage through the mine-field."
"Then what would happen?" queried Aubyn, keenly interested in theinformation.
"If she were unsupported we would try the effect of a torpedo,"replied Maynebrace, with a smile. "Ten to one the disaster to one ofvon Tirpitz's pets would be put down to the accidental displacementof one of the mines. In the case of the 'Derfflinger' and herconsorts we let the whole crowd go. It would be impossible to torpedothe lot, and even if we hit one the remainder might scoot back toWilhelmshaven. On the other hand, by not giving them a scare we helpto keep their spirits up, so to speak, and let our battle-cruisers dothe smashing-up part of the business. By the by, the seaman who waswith you on the derelict boat told us of the result of the dust-up:how the 'Bluecher' went under."
"It was a pity we didn't get the rest," remarked Terence.
"Fortune of war," declared the lieutenant-commander. "And, as luckwould have it, the three German battle-cruisers did not return toWilhelmshaven by the same channel, otherwise I might have had a tryfor one or two of them. No, they made for Heligoland, I fancy, andthence either to Kiel or Wilhelmshaven by a passage inside themine-field. Well, I must leave you for a while. I'll send youngWarborough--he's my sub.--to have a yarn with you. And as soon as Iget the chance I'll get off a wireless announcing that you are safeand sound on board."
It was not long before Sub-lieutenant Warborough arrived upon thescene. He was a young, easy-going officer, wholeheartedly devoted tohis career; yet, when on leave he was a worry to the police in thevicinity of each of the great naval ports. His brother-officers inthe submarine flotilla were apt to remark that Dick Warborough was a"bit of a scorcher" in more ways than one. On one occasion a livelyscene in a Portsmouth theatre, in which Warborough played a leadingthough unrehearsed part, almost ended in a police-court. Perhaps itwas lucky for the sub. that his father was a man of position andinfluence. Warborough freely confessed to half a dozen endorsementson his motor-driver's licence. The fines he had been ordered to payin his twelve-month amounted to almost as much as his pay andallowance as a sub-lieutenant in the submarine service, so once againhe thanked his lucky stars that his parent was rich and, what wasmore, generous. Yet, with all his foolish pranks ashore, he was keenand a capable officer from the moment he passed through the dockyardgates to return to duty till the time when he was again able toproceed on leave.
"Skipper says I'm to hold a pow-wow with you, Aubyn," beganWarborough, not with any suspicion of condescension but in a frank,easy-going manner. "Glad to have someone to spin a yarn with. Do youmotor?"
Terence had
to confess that, except for trips in hired cars duringhis brief visits to his home, his experiences in that direction werefew and far between; then, by way of altering the topic ofconversation, he asked what the young officer thought of thesubmarine service.
"Top-hole--absolutely ripping!" declared Warborough. "This lying inwait is apt to be a bit tedious, but there are moments when you feeldownright happy at being in the submarine service."
"Pretty dangerous?" hazarded Aubyn, who had not entirely got over thefeeling that he was imprisoned at the bottom, or nearly at the bottomof the sea.
"That's what gives a spice to the business," said Warborough. "If wedo bump a mine there's precious little chance for us. The worst partof the job is when we are getting fairly close to Harwich, andrunning awash. The helmsman of one of your destroyers might get atrifle jumpy, you know--mistakes have been made in that direction,especially at night."
"That I can quite understand," rejoined Terence, recalling the manyanxious hours he had passed on the "Strongbow" as officer of thewatch, and straining his eyes in the darkness till he fancied he sawthe periscope and conning-tower of more than one submarine.
"And the rotten part of the business is, the man in the streetgrumbles," continued Warborough. "It's all very fine saying that theSilent Navy is above public opinion and all that--it isn't, and it'sa bit rough. Our men come back from leave with the yarn that they arecontinually being asked, 'What is the Navy doing?' And if people findout that they belong to the submarine service they ask still morepointed questions. Civilians forget that the German ships rarely putto sea, except when they think they can do a sneaking bit of damage.And after this recent scrap they'll be still more chary about comingout. Now, if there's nothing or hardly anything afloat for us to gofor, it's not much use running a great risk of being rammed by ourown destroyers. Submarines can't fight submarines, and the fact thata few German 'unterseeboots' have started playing the fool with ourmerchant craft complicates the situation. However, there are four ofour submarines keeping an eye on the approach to the German North Seaports, so perhaps, after the war is over and people are let into theknow, we may be vindicated in the minds of the Great British Public.Why, man, what's wrong now? Your nose has started to bleed."
Terence brought out his handkerchief and applied it to his nasalorgan. It was a very rare thing for it to bleed, and he wonderedwhether it was the result of the concussion when he was blown fromthe deck of the "Livingstone."
"I don't fancy so," remarked Warborough. "It's the excess of oxygen.We are frequently affected that way. Shove your head in that basinand let me pour cold water on your neck: that will stop it prettyquickly."
Aubyn's companion was quite right. In less than two minutes the flowhad entirely ceased.
"How about the water?" asked Terence. "I suppose this is the pump?"
"Yes. You'll have to exert a fair amount of strength to get rid ofthe water, you know."
Aubyn seized the pump lever, but in spite of his efforts he could notforce the water out of the basin. "Back pressure too much," commentedWarborough. "We're more than fifty feet below the surface. We'll haveto get rid of this water pretty quickly, so I'll ask the skipper tobring the boat twenty feet or so nearer the surface."
"Sorry to give you so much trouble," said Terence apologetically.
"Not at all, my dear fellow. It will give the men something to do torelieve the monotony. Come with me, if you're fit to move, and youcan see the operation."
Terence followed the junior officer to the base of the conning-tower,and upon Warborough explaining matters to the lieutenant-commander,the latter concurred in the desirability of ascending.
"While we are about it we may as well go up and look round," headded.
Word was then passed for the crew to stand at their stations. Insidea water-filled compartment, separated from the rest of the vessel bystrong watertight bulkheads, the electrically-worked winch could bedimly heard as it hauled in the cable, till the stockless anchor wassafely housed flush with the outer plating of the submarine.
The reserve tanks were "blown," the electric motors for propellingpurposes were set in motion, and the horizontal fins trimmed for theascent. Steadily the pointer of the depth indicator began to falltill it registered ten feet. At that distance below the surface it isquite possible to make use of the periscope.
The lieutenant-commander watched the seemingly monotonous changingpanorama depicted upon the bowl at the base of the periscope, as theeyepiece swept the horizon.
Suddenly he checked the training handle. A small and ratherindistinct object had appeared in view.
"What do you make of that, Warborough?" asked the skipper calmly.
"Light-cruiser, sir!" replied that officer, after a brief glance atthe reflected picture. "And a German, by all the powers!"
"May as well have a look, Mr. Aubyn," said the lieutenant-commanderconsiderately. "She seems in no hurry, and unless she takes it intoher head to change her course, she'll pass within eight hundred yardsof us."
Terence inspected the periscope representation of the German vessel.Although she flew no ensign, her characteristic masts, funnel, andderricks, as well as her protruding bows--a combination of bothclipper and ram--proclaimed her as one of the "Freya" class cruisers,averaging 5600 tons. Her guns were trained abeam, but from theirdirection it was evident that the Germans had no idea of the perilthat menaced them.
The sub. felt his blood tingling. It was the "Terrier" incident overagain, only the boot was on the other foot this time.
"Down to thirty feet--charge firing-tank--flood bothtorpedo-tubes--stand by!" ordered the lieutenant-commander.
He would not run the risk of allowing the tip of the periscope toremain on the surface while the crew were thrusting the two steelcylinders into their respective tubes.
"All correct, sir!" reported the leading torpedo-hand.
"To fifteen feet, then," was the order.
Once again daylight filtered through the periscope. On the bowl stoodthe image of the doomed cruiser, now showing with remarkablevividness. A slight touch on the steering gear and "E Something"swung a point or so to starboard to enable her tubes to be trained afew feet in advance of the cruiser's bows--a sufficient allowance forthe vessel to be fairly in the path of the deadly weapon by the timethe torpedo travelled the intervening distance.
A faint detonation, caused by the release of the propelling charge ofcompressed air was followed by the rush of the water admitted intothe now empty tube to compensate the loss of weight of the torpedo.The missile was on its way.
A few seconds of tense silence followed, then came the muffled soundof a terrific detonation, as the warhead exploded fifteen feet belowthe surface and fairly amidships of the doomed cruiser. No need tolet loose a second missile.
"Got her!" exclaimed the skipper laconically, as the submarine divedto fifty feet to avoid detection and its natural sequence--a hail ofquick-firer projectiles from the already sinking vessel.
A quarter of an hour later the "E Something" again showed herperiscope. The lieutenant-commander's surmise was correct. The Germancruiser had plunged to the bottom, while half a dozen boats, crammedto their utmost capacity, were laboriously rowing towards theinvisible island of Borkum.
"Thank you, Mr. Aubyn!" exclaimed the lieutenant-commander, extendinghis hand towards the sub.
"What for, sir, might I ask?"
"For letting your nose bleed at a most opportune moment," was thecool rejoinder.